


hey merlin? it's me, marcus flint

by sadie18



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hogwarts Era, Implied Sexual Content, Inner Dialogue, M/M, One Shot, POV Marcus, implied lol - Freeform, top!oliver
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-17
Updated: 2018-09-17
Packaged: 2019-07-13 12:06:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16017578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sadie18/pseuds/sadie18
Summary: some thoughts of one marcus flint





	hey merlin? it's me, marcus flint

**Author's Note:**

> gay

Merlin?

It's me, Marcus Flint. 

I've just turned 15. I've begun my fifth year. You were a Slytherin, weren't you?

Anyways, it'll be my fourth year playing quidditch. Bloody brilliant sport, really. 

 

There's really only one person in the school that loves Quidditch as much as me. Oliver Wood.

I  _hate_ Oliver Wood. 

He's always with his Gryffindor friends, always so bloody  _happy._ Its disgusting to watch, really. 

I've hated him ever since our first game. I can't believe he didn't get in trouble for the stunt he pulled. How was it any of my fault that their precious little chaser got knocked in the head by a bludger? Granted, I shouldn't've laughed, it was a rather nasty injury.

Gone through it myself, by now. But  _loads_ of people did laugh and then he came over to  _me_ and clocked me in the jaw. We were second years! Right fucking nerve he had, doing that. I just hit him right back, of course, but we got in trouble with Snape and McGonagall and were in the hospital wing for  _ages._

He always bumps me in the hallways, and he never gets in trouble for  _that._ It's just not fair. 

I scored on him last game though. Four times. He's not as good as everyone says he is, really. Of course he's not that good, if he thinks  _Puddlemere_ 's a team worth supporting. 

But now Harry Potter's been sorted into their house. They'll make him a quidditch captain in the future even if he was a  _squib._

* * *

 

Merlin?

It's me, Marcus Flint. 

I barely passed my O.W.L.s. My father won't be pleased. Nor will my mother. 

But I don't really give a shit! I don't want to be a smarmy old politician sitting at a desk and slowly getting fat and going home to my big fucking estate and drinking firewhiskey till I pass out. That's my father's life. I don't want that. 

Some people actually  _do_ want that, though. Barmy, it is! Percy Weasley, one of Oliver fucking Wood's mates wants to be Minister for Magic! Merlin fucking forbid he get to change the laws, I'd  _avada_ myself. And this measly little first year, name's Ernie Macmillan, is so stuck up that I think he grows taller by nose, it's in the air so bloody much. 

I just want to play for Montrose, really. You don't need O.W.L.s or N.E.W.T.s for that, do you?

Speaking of annoying first years, Oliver Wood now has Harry  _fucking_ Potter on their team. No first years are allowed to try out, but McGonagall, the old bat saw him catch a fucking Remembrall and gave him a  _Nimbus 2000!_ Malfoy threw a fit in the common room, I don't think I can hear the word "Potter" ever again without thinking of Malfoy pacing the floor muttering about the different ways he was going to curse the boy. As a  _firstie._

He  _swallowed_ the snitch on his first game! McGonagall threw me in detention after talking to Hooch about that one. 

But it's so unfair! Oliver Wood, of course he got Harry Potter. Gryffindor is as popular as ever now, and Slytherin is just the  _bad house._ Bollocks. Higgs isn't bad, really when he's not mooning over Pucey. But he doesn't have a Nimbus!  _Harry Potter does._ Everyone's always favoured Wood. 

We had a fight this year, again. A couple. First time was on the pitch. He can't keep his hands to himself and shoved me over something  _miniscule._ Gryffindors are so  _sensitive._ We both had black eyes after that one. The second one was because one of the Weasel twins thought it'd be funny to feed Pucey some of their joke products before a really important practice I was holding. I swung first, but nothing would've happened if Wood could just  _keep his Weasels on a leash._

Anyways, I'll be starting my sixth year after the summer. Malfoy'll be wanting to try out, but unless he can beat out Higgs, he's useless. 

* * *

 

Merlin?

It's me, Marcus Flint. 

Already, Wood's manages to be a little shit and disrespect my team. 

Snape had given me a note! It was valid. They had booked maybe, but everybody knows that a note overrides that!

Malfoy wasn't half-bad at Seeker, and Malfoy Senior decked the team with Nimbus  _2001_ s! How could I say no to that? It was a better deal!

Even Higgs was ok with it! 

But Wood had to stick his nose into our fucking business. And that bushy haired Granger  _beast_ had to go and insult Malfoy. There was maybe a little truth to her words, but  _still._ And the Weasels tried it with Malfoy, almost, but the little shit couldn't keep his mouth shut and called Granger a mudblood. And then it went to fucking  _shit._

Potter had dove at Malfoy. Then the twins were off. The girls on their team are  _vicious._ And then Wood, fucking  _Wood_ got caught in the mix after Cassius grabbed his robe. And then the Johnson girl shoved me in the back and suddenly Wood is on top of me.

He was straddling me, which is a little awkward now that I think of it, but he had pinned me down which was so unfair. So I kneed him in the bits. See how well he'd do like _that_. 

And now I'm in  _detention_ with Wood. Potter and the rest of their Gryffindor band as well as my team didn't get punishment! It was our faults, because _"you two are captains and expected to set a good example and I'm highly disappointed in the both of you blah blah blah."_

At least it's just polishing the trophies. I don't mind having detention in the trophy room. I get to see the champions, the greats of the school. 

My name was up there, on a trophy somewhere, for being a captain. We'd won the cup the year before, as well. 

I guess Wood feels the same way, sometimes. He's reading the plaques as well, over in the other corner. 

At least he gets it, caring about just one thing mostly. 

I still hate him an awful lot, though. 

* * *

 

Merlin? 

It's me, Marcus Flint. 

I wasn't expecting him to be the type to sneak out, even for Quidditch. 

But there he was, flying around the sky like he owns it. He probably could, if he wanted. The boy works like a dog. 

He was wearing just his quidditch sweater and pants, not bothering with the gear. We were wearing the same thing, except his top was in gold and red. Hideous colours.

He did loop-de-loops, twists, dives, and hung upside down on his broom for a bit before he noticed I was there. 

"What the fuck are you doing here? It's past curfew!" 

What a hypocrite. 

"I could ask you the same thing." I'd said, because I  _could've._ "Same reason as you, probably."

"You don't sleep well?" He asked skeptically. 

 _I don't sleep well at all._ "I just wanted to go for a fly, Wood. I won't tell if you won't." 

That sounded an awful lot like a truce, blast. But I _really_ had just wanted to go for a fly. 

He buggered off then, and we flew about in silence, till he spoke to me again. 

This time I'd flown as high as I could without getting a little nervous, and just hovered. Hogwarts is beautiful. I've seen Durmstrang. I don't think I could ever want to go there when I could have this. 

"Don't hurt your brain thinking too hard." He'd said. Of course, the shit had come up behind me. 

"What do you want, Wood?" 

It sounded a bit like a sigh. I was tired. I still am. 

"I don't know." He'd answered me. "Have no fucking clue, really."

And he dove back down at furious speeds, until I could barely see him. 

He did flip me off after he landed. 

* * *

Merlin? 

It's me, Marcus Flint. 

I see Wood about three nights a week now. There's no way the teachers haven't noticed, but they haven't come out to fight us, have they? 

No, not seeing Wood like  _that._ We just happen sneak out and share the pitch a bit. Normally, it's just a bit of aimless flying, tiring ourselves out so it's easier to fall asleep. Sometimes he brings a quaffle and asks me to shoot on him. The extra practice is useful, I guess. 

He sometimes does fall asleep, he mentions one day. But he'll wake up and not be able to fall back asleep and come out and see me having a fly. He did come out in his pajamas, once. 

Most nights, we don't talk. During the day, we still fight and bully the other till we're thrown in detention, but when the stars come out, we're under truce, and we sometimes  _do_ talk. 

"Can I say something without you punching me?" Oliver says after being shot on by me. I nodded. I wouldn't punch him, because then I'd have to leave him and then he'd snitch on me and the teachers would officially know. 

"If there were no houses, I bet you and I would've been mates." He said. "We have enough in common. You're not as much off a buggering arse when you're not with your friends and I bet my broom that you think I'm a tad more pleasant when I'm not flanked by the twins."

And you know what?

He'd right. There was no more to our rivalry then the fact that we were on different teams. That we had been pitted against each other. 

"You're right." I whispered. "But you hate me. And I hate you. And that's that." 

And we flew around a bit more after that. 

* * *

 

Merlin? 

It's me, Marcus Flint. 

It's the end of sixth year and I've realised I'm painfully not straight. 

I haven't said it aloud yet. Just to my head, just to you, because you're dead and just hovering above everyone and laughing 'cause we're all  _morons._

Everyone's always asked me when I'd get a girlfriend. I'd always answered with, "I'm busy with quidditch," and that would be the end of the conversation. 

But I'd always had the time to admire quidditch players like  _Krum_ and how he flew and how he moved but when people asked me about Gwenog Jones I would say "she's great, just not really my type."

That's  _terrifying._

And you know what the scariest part about it is? 

It was Oliver Wood that made me realise.  _Oliver Wood._

Somewhere in between all of our midnight rendezvous' and shoving each other into walls and talking quidditch on the middle of the pitch and body checking on my broom I've started to notice... things. 

Like how even in the starlight, his eyes are still a warm brown. He has a spattering of freckles from his time in the sun. He has small scars all over his hands from playing Keeper. 

I've noticed how Oliver would glare at him in the corridors and look neutrally in the nighttime, and how he would snark at my team. I hate that Oliver would come late quite often and snap at me when he's had a bad day. Boo fucking hoo, Wood, we all have bad days. 

How is it possible to have a crush on somebody but still hate them so  _fucking much?_

I even know the exact moment I realised it. Yesterday. It was a Friday. On Fridays, we fly around as long as we want because we get to sleep in the day after. 

It was also raining. We still flew in the rain. What good use was magic if we couldn't use drying charms?

He'd come earlier for once. Brought a quaffle as well. Hadn't noticed me yet, just like he hadn't noticed me the first time. He was jut hovering on his broom, lying on it. That couldn't have been comfortable but he did it anyways. His eyes were closed. He had a small smile on his face. 

His brown hair started to mat to his head. His shirt clung to his frame and he was  _toned and strong_ of course, from all those years of sports. He just lay there. 

It took me a couple minutes before it clicked and I swore. And he heard me and I couldn't just  _run away._ Even though that's all I wanted to do. 

And now I'm just lying in bed and I can't think of anything but the rain.

I'll see him again tonight. It's a Saturday. after all. 

* * *

 

Merlin? 

It's me, Marcus Flint. 

It's the fourth day of seventh year and I've gone and kissed Oliver Wood. 

We had our second midnight meeting on the pitch. He looked well. 

We were lying in the middle of the pitch. 

"You've grown even more. I thought I grew." Oliver had grouched. 

"I only have a an inch on you, pipsqueak, don't worry." I said, and he glared and he looked  _adorable._

We've been polite in the hallways. We're seventh years now, and I decided civil was the way to go. 

"Pipsqueak?" He said indignantly. "I'll have you know that I'm 6'1'' and you're just  _abnormally giantish_."

"It's the troll blood."

His expression was so shocked that I could only hold the lie for a couple seconds. 

"Joking! Don't believe everything you hear, Wood." 

"I don't!" 

His nose scrunched. He looked a little like a mouse. It wasn't a bad thing. 

"Anyways, it's only one inche, I'm 6'2"." 

"You are  _not-"_   He had snapped. "-just one  _entire inch_ taller than me. Stand up. 

We stood up. It was pretty even.

The two of us were standing abnormally close, weren't we? 

I could feel his breath on my mouth. He smelt like cinnamon and mint.

"See." I whispered. "Just an inch." I only had to look down at him a teensy tiny bit. 

His brown eyes were half lidded and he was looking slightly, teensily upwards from under his eyelashes. They were so long. 

Our mouths were just an inch away from each other. 

I didn't know how long I'd wanted it. Our lips had only brushed before he grabbed my collar and snogged the absolute  _daylights_ out of me. 

I'd never kissed a bloke before, and I never knew it'd be Oliver  _fucking_ Wood that would be the one to change that. 

Somehow we'd ended up on the floor, and the mud was digging into my back. He was palming at my arse and there was already a hickey on his jaw that  _I'd_ put on there.  _Me._

I don't know how long it had been until I finally took my hands out from under his shirt and stopped sucking at his neck and actually  _looked_ at him. 

"How long?" Oliver rasped at me. His brown eyes were  _dark._

"Since before the summer." 

He'd tucked his head under my neck and placed a hand on my hip, possessively. 

"A couple minutes." His mumbles vibrated into my neck. "Stay with me."

* * *

Merlin?

It's me, Marcus Flint.

I'm dating Oliver Wood now. 

The Weasley twins like to come up to us and poke fun until Oliver points out that Fred's been pining over Lee Jordan for  _ages._

We're still arseholes to each other in the corridor, but now it's just for old times sake. 

He won the house cup this year. Against Diggory. I couldn't be mad, when he looked so happy. He beamed at me from across the pitch and I felt like I had that night in the rain.

Puddlemere's recruiting him, and Montrose is taking me in. When we found out, he cried until I kissed him to shut him up and tease him about it and then he decided to fuck me so _I'd_ shut up. 

He'd fucked me when he won the cup, as well. 

I guess what I'm saying is things change. People change. Who knew that one day, I'd be falling in love with Oliver Wood?

Not me, I guess. 

All's well.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> come chat with me on tumblr @oliivverwood


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